


kiss like real people do

by Selador



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comic Book Science, Darcy Lewis-centric, Darcy and Reid meet at a science conference, F/M, Meet-Cute, Romance, nerds falling in love, the author thinks staying up all night talking is the peak of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21962026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selador/pseuds/Selador
Summary: “My title is Special Supervisory Agent,” he interjects.“Your interest in Civil Engineering wouldn’t be inspired by Sherlock Holmes, would it? It’s been a while since I read them, but he was supposed to be an expert on everything London.”He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. When he tries again, “Um, it might be.”She takes a step back to get a good look at him. He meets her eyes and appears to have little to no discomfort while she appraises him. She smiles and says, “My name’s Darcy.”
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Spencer Reid
Comments: 26
Kudos: 424





	kiss like real people do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swearwollf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swearwollf/gifts).



> a giftfic for swearwollf's bday back in june, which she got to read for her bday even though i didn't finish this first chapter until now (whoops)
> 
> edit: i've marked this story as complete. I may someday revisit it, but if i do that, i'll make it a series. this concept is complete at this time.

Stark Industries Conventions are an excellent time to be into the cute and nerdy types. Sure, there’s a lot of dicks competing for size, but that’s nothing new. She’s pretty good at spotting the biggest ones from miles away at this point, and even better at fending them off. There’s plenty of decent guys and, more importantly, _cute_ guys in the mix, and Darcy feels like a kid in a candy shop.

Darcy’s never been above using her unfortunate appeal to assholes in particular for free drinks and food, and sometimes she still catches herself because she has no _need_ for that anymore. She lives in the Avengers Tower. She _lives_ here. She can get free drinks and food whenever she wants, and she has a pretty salary of her own, too. 

(Yeah, that’s right, she’s _salaried_. Knowing exactly how much she’s going to make regardless of her hours is a very good, very secure feeling she’s not yet used to.)

She also happens to know multiple scientists that are presenting their work at this convention, so Darcy has less time than usual to go on the prowl. But she loves her scientists, and she wants to make sure they know they’re loved and supported, so every hour she finds herself in a different conference room to listen to her friends talk about their work. Which she totally digs because she loves hearing her friends talk about what they love, but she’s heard these presentations hundreds of times. 

At least for Jane and Bruce, who actually have to practice their presentation in front of the caring, loyal, loving, supportive, and most importantly, not too busy friend known as Darcy Lewis, Scientist Wrangler Extraordinaire. 

Tony doesn’t practice presentations. As far as Darcy can tell, he does no prep work. He waits until the last minute to call in whatever flashy works or performances he wants done, and then does it. 

His presentation is the only one Darcy hasn’t seen, so it’s the most interesting by far. 

“Now, the real lesson of my presentation is this: be careful what you name your projects in progress because sometimes they stick, and when they do, you end up with names like _Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing_. Or, BARF.” A titter of laughter runs through the crowd. Surprisingly, Tony is actually pretty good at explaining his scientific discoveries. _Must be the salesman in him_ , Darcy thinks. 

At the end of the presentation for the Q&A, the tall and skinny guy sitting next to Darcy goes up to the mic. “Hi! There. Um, I was wondering, what are the investigative applications of BARF? Could a victim of a crime use this technology to better recall details of their attacker? And what would the effect and limitations be in those who have developing hippocampuses such as children? And what about the potential to retraumatize, how do we make sure BARF would help a person instead of hurt them?”

“BARF is in the early clinical trials stage,” says Tony, leaning his weight on one leg casually, unperturbed by the barrage of questions. “Our investigation is limited solely to the psychological benefits it can provide for people who have undergone trauma, and we are currently only conducting trials with adults. Whether or not it would have wider applications in, say, criminal investigations to assist with witness testimony would need to be investigated separately.”

“And what about with children?” asks the skinny guy. 

“Well, the idea behind BARF is that it allows you to re-experience a traumatic incident and change it. I have discussed with developmental psychiatrists about the possibilities BARF could bring to their fields, but that’s still quite a ways off. Now, don’t hog the mic, let someone else have a turn.”

“Oh, yeah, sure!” He begins to hand the mic to the next person in line, and jerks it back. The people nearby who see it laugh at the expression on the other person’s face and their expectant, outstretched hands. Skinny guy just says quickly, “Thank you!” and hurries back to his seat. When he sits down, he releases a shaky breath and rests his head in his hands.

Darcy loses a short battle with herself and pats him on the shoulder. When he jerks to look at her, she whispers, “You did great!” and gives him a thumbs up. 

“Thank you,” he mouths, looking touched and confused. An effect Darcy often has on people. It’s her superpower. When his attention turns back to Tony, she gives him a once over; he’s cute. Practically _adorkable_ personified, sweater vest and all. He even has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Darcy is very appreciative. 

“I wonder how BARF would be used from a legal standpoint,” Darcy says to him once the presentation ends as they wait to file out of the conference hall. “It seems like something that would easily become abused by law enforcement.”

He nods. “That’s why I’m concerned about the accuracy of the memories observed. If the events viewed with the program are manipulatable, it would be expedient to establish that it should never be admissible in court. I also have to wonder if it would be possible for an external influence to affect how the events are affected while a person is using--” he makes a face, before saying, “--BARF. If so, it would become an effective tool for torture. All of the pain without the risk of the victim dying. Even if that’s not the program’s intent or within its capabilities, I don’t believe it would be too long until hackers catch up with the program and make this a reality.”

“It wouldn’t leave any evidence behind, either,” adds Darcy. “Untraceable, untrackable torture. Impossible to prove it happened.”

“The extent to which it could change a person’s perception of their past…” he says, frowning. They escape their row and slowly make their way to the door. “If it would allow a person to re-experience their trauma in a way that allows them to better process it, it would be possible for them to believe that it had never happened in the first place.”

“Are you a psychologist?” asks Darcy. Probably quite a few psychologists came to the convention just to hear about BARF. 

“No, but I have a BA degree in Psychology,” says the guy. “I have doctorates in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering.” Darcy very intentionally raises her eyebrows. That was quite a lot to brag about. 

Darcy can appreciate genius, but even her limited interactions with Tony exceeds her daily nutritional requirement for Genius Asshole™. Scanning away from the guy, she nods and asks distractedly, “Just a matter of curiosity, then, huh?”

“Well, yes, but if BARF is approved for medical uses, it would have a tremendous impact in my line of work,” he says. “I’m a profiler with the BAU, Behavioral Analyst Unit.” He sort of bounces on his heels when Darcy turns her attention back to him. “My job is to analyze the behavior of serial killers in terms of geographical patterns, victimology, and methods in order to advise law enforcement on how to proceed to find the perpetrator and save as many people as we can.”

The BAU... Why does that sound familiar? “Oh shit, so this could really help people you meet in your line of work. Or really hurt them.”

He nods. “Yes, which is why it was of particular interest to me at this conference. Most of what Tony Stark works on goes over my head since I’m hopeless with technology--” he says, with a little smile. Darcy thinks, _Maybe not an asshole after all_ , as her interest renews. “--But I always enjoy the presentations at SI, and this time it featured a broad scope of research fields what with Dr. Banner and Dr. Foster.”

“Did you see Jane’s presentation?” Darcy asks, always happy to hear good things about Janey. They drift to the wall away from the crowd. Darcy wonders if she ought to go find Tony or someone, but Tony’s not Jane. He doesn’t need reassurance that he did a good job. “Wait, I thought you said you have a PhD in Engineering?”

“I did, and I do,” he says. “Dr. Foster’s presentation was great. My doctorate is in Civil Engineering, the design of cities and infrastructure. I found it fascinating from a sociological perspective how humans have always gathered together in large groups and constructed buildings and roads to accommodate as many as possible. Infrastructure is more of a special interest than anything practical, but the amount of history steeped in buildings and very roads we walk on? The amount of technical planning and skill to plan, construct, and maintain a bridge?” His voice becomes more energized and passionate. Darcy notes that he rarely pauses to breathe, and his enthusiasm is infectious. Taking a class on civil engineering almost sounds like a good idea. 

“So you’re an investigator who really likes knowing the history and location of buildings…” muses Darcy. If she isn’t completely off-base, and Darcy is really good at reading people, she would bet that he’s a nerd of the sci-fi and fantasy ilk too.

“My title is Special Supervisory Agent,” he interjects.

“Your interest in Civil Engineering wouldn’t be inspired by Sherlock Holmes, would it? It’s been a while since I read them, but he was supposed to be an expert on everything London.”

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. When he tries again, “Um, it might be.”

She takes a step back to get a good look at him. He meets her eyes and appears to have little to no discomfort while she appraises him. She smiles and says, “My name’s Darcy.”

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” says Dr. Spencer Reid. “You didn’t hold out your hand?”

Oh, whoops. “I’m out of the habit,” she says, “I read that only 31% of men wash their hands after peeing, so I vowed never to shake a man’s hand ever again.”

Looking a bit surprised, he nods. “Most people wouldn't sacrifice such a strictly reinforced form of social politeness so quickly.”

“Hey, it wasn’t quick! I gave it the due amount of consideration before I decided hand shaking was bullshit.” 

“The amount of bacteria present on the human hand is egregious and the cause for many epidemics as the fecal-oral route is one of the most common methods of disease transmission,” he says, nodding approvingly. 

Cute and nerdy. Darcy _likes_.

Just a second into the descent of awkward silence, where one of them has to ask the other one to continue the conversation by way of a drink or dinner, Darcy takes the plunge. “Want to continue the conversation over a drink?”

“Oh, sure! Tony Stark’s presentation was the last one I wanted to see anyway,” he says. Darcy hums because this is true for her too, but she wouldn’t have put it like that. They walk over to the bar near the SI building, which is packed with people who had the same idea. As soon as they see the tight crowd forming something vaguely resembling a line, Spencer begins to pick at his tie. “Maybe we should find somewhere else in the area?”

Darcy’s wearing heels. Screw that. “Come on, I have some sweet digs. We’ll drink at my place.”

…

JARVIS is the best wingman ever; she and Spencer step into the elevator and he takes them right up to the floor she shares with Jane and Thor.

(Tony offered them each their own floor because--because Tony is like that, apparently. Jane cared less about living space and more about lab space, and while Darcy’s automatic response is to accept everything offered to her for free, the idea of having that much _space_ all to herself without breaking her back for it wigged her out. So they all became roommates.)

“Wow,” says Spencer, as he walks to the other side of the living room and looks out the window. “I’m surprised this building passed height and safety regulations.”

“And let Wilson Fisk have the biggest tower in the city? Tony Stark would never,” dismisses Darcy. 

“Fisk is currently under investigation,” Spencer comments. “I’m sure you’ve heard it on the news.”

Yeah, that was in the files Darcy organized for the Avengers. It was a tough situation with Fisk. He has his fingers in a lot of pies, and Fisk seems like the kind of guy who would rather ruin the pie than share any with anyone and leave a lot of bodies behind in the process. It required a more subtle touch than what the Avengers could give, save for Nat and Clint, and they were needed in so many other places. 

But it only took a word with Pepper to pull all of their funding away from anything related to Fisk, some retweets from Tony’s and Steve’s official Twitter accounts to help stir outrage against Fisk, and enlisting JARVIS to monitor all of Fisk’s business transactions so they can slam him with something illegal because Thor knows that Daredevil guy isn’t going to put Fisk away with his fists. (But _boy_ , is he trying. Darcy had JARVIS flag any sightings to deal with _that_ little problem on a different day.)

And Darcy did all of this because she tries to use her own powers for good, even if no one notices. 

(Should Darcy have access to all of the Avengers’ social media accounts? Probably not. Does she anyway? Yes. It hadn’t even been hard, Tony and Steve gave her access when she has asked. Clint, Bruce, and Thor didn’t have accounts until she made some for them, and they were happy enough to leave her to it. Natasha turned up at her room one day to let Darcy take her social media account off her hands after she’d managed the others successfully.

Darcy is about 99% certain that Tony thinks she’s his new Personal Assistant. She’s slightly more certain than that she’s not in any official capacity, but not 100%. JARVIS does dump a lot more money into her bank account than she would get as a Research Assistant, and she doesn’t want to do anything stupid like _complain_ about that.)

“I have. Dude is skeevy as fuck,” says Darcy. 

Spencer nods. “The evidence against him isn’t as solid as I would like to have on one of my own cases, but it’s telling how many people have come forward as witnesses only to retract them shortly after.”

“Smells like threats,” concludes Darcy. She pours them both a glass of red wine and hands him a glass. “Cheers!”

“Did you know that clinking glasses possibly originated as a means to ward off evil spirits?” he asks, as their glasses go _clink._

“I thought it was to prevent poisoning?”

“That’s one theory, but the sources supporting it are apocryphal at best. It’s much more likely to be a tradition to promote fortune and banish evil.” Despite the mention of poisoning, he takes a good sip, gazing about the room and lighting up as he lands on her ( _signed_ ) Spock poster. “You like Star Trek?” 

“No,” she says, and his expression drops before she adds, “I _love_ Star Trek. It’s the _best._ ”

“I take it you’re an Original Series fan?” he asks. “I really enjoy Next Generation myself, although Voyager is incredible and extremely underrated.”

“Nothing will compare to Captain Kirk and Spock,” Darcy announces. “The Original Star Trek was revolutionary.”

“Next Gen took the same premise of the Original and executed them more elegantly,” argues Spencer. During the conversation, they wandered over to Darcy’s bedroom. “And Captain Janeway was the first female starfleet captain to be a central character.”

“Oh, Janeway is incredible, don’t get me wrong,” says Darcy, kicking off her shoes, “but I had my sexual awakening to Spock and Kirk, not Janeway. Not, you know, I’d be opposed to getting down with Captain Janeway! But nothing will ever replace watching the Original episodes with my grandma.” 

“Oh! Well,” he stammers, flushing and looking very cute. Darcy walks around her bed with her wine and reclines back against her pillows, curling up her legs on the side. Her dress rides up her thigh.

Spencer seats himself on the edge of the bed, taking a sip of his wine. His gaze flickers about her room. “Do you have a favorite episode? Of the Original series.”  
  


“‘Amok Time,’” says Darcy immediately. And, with some heavy suggestion, she adds, “The sexual tension in that episode was off the charts.”

“That was an incredible episode,” he agrees. “Definitely in my top three. My favorite is ‘The Enemy Within’ if only because I greatly enjoy the philosophy behind its message.”

Darcy eyes him. Is she… being too subtle? He’s interested, right? A guy wouldn’t have come up to her room with her if he wasn’t interested in having sex. Experimentally, she stretches out her legs until her pantyhose covered foot brushes against his thigh. “Oh, sorry,” he says, scooting down the bed a bit. “Let me give you more room!” Spencer smiles, and Darcy thinks, _Oh._

Biting back a smile, Darcy relaxes into the pillows a bit while Spencer launches into a dissection of the implications of the _Star Trek_ episode, animated and enthusiastic. 

The conversation naturally migrates from Star Trek’s commentary on the nature of humanity to how science fiction has portrayed extraterrestrials and sentient robots, which led to a conversation about the ethics of artificial intelligence and its modern applications. 

JARVIS doesn’t chime in, but this is Darcy’s wheelhouse. The _first_ thing she did when she moved in was discuss JARVIS’ existence and position in the Avengers Tower in depth, including offering to find a way to free him of Tony if he wanted. 

He thanked her for her concern but told her that it wasn’t necessary.

(How would she have freed JARVIS of Tony? Anything including downloading JARVIS onto a thumb drive to murdering Tony Stark. Darcy would have found something.)

“You can’t make sentient AIs and then put them on the market,” says Darcy. They’ve been talking long enough to have gone through the bottle of wine. “If you accept that the AIs are sentient and then try to sell them, then you’re just selling a person. It’s slavery. And it also matters who does the programming of the artificial intelligence,” she says. When she sees Spencer nodding along, she continues, “All of the AIs at Stark Industries are designed by Tony himself. They learn and grow but personality are programmed by him, and he bases their logic on his own.”

“Most people would, even if they intend not to,” he muses. 

“Yeah, exactly! How many people would you really want to program an artificial intelligence?”

“It’d be much like that programmer’s child, in a way,” says Spencer. At some point while they’d been talking, he’d move to the other side of the bed to rest against the pillows next to her. It is very cozy. 

Darcy should absolutely tell Tony that his robots are his children some time. She’ll whip that out next time she needs to startle him into compliance. 

An angry beeping noise sounds in the room. It’s not her phone, but she reaches to the end table for hers on reflex. 

Spencer fumbles, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Oh, um, I’ve got to--I’m sorry, it’s work, I’ve got to go.”

“Already?” she questions, deadpan. “We’ve only been talking for--” she checks her phone, “--nine hours, it’s so soon.”

Spencer’s mouth opens a bit. “It’s been--it’s already two in the morning?” He jumps up, scrambling for his shoes. “I have to--I have to catch a train back to DC, I wasn’t planning on staying here for so long--oh, but this was nice,” he interrupts himself, one shoe on but not yet laced up. “This was really nice.” His cheeks pinken, looking away to focus on his shoes. Darcy notices that he is not managing to tie them with much efficiency. 

She stands up, stretching a bit. Spencer flushes even more while as she does. “I’ll walk you down, if you’d like?”

“Sure! Yeah, that’d be--nice,” he says. She slips on her slippers and walks him down the quiet hallway. JARVIS kindly turns on the lights to a low level so it’s not pitch black. 

Jane likely isn’t in her room; Darcy wouldn’t have heard her come in, but she would have come to chat with Darcy about her presentation if she had, so she’s probably down in the lab. With Thor offworld, Jane spends a lot more time in the lab. He was due back soon, though, after which he and Jane will be in their rooms much more often, and Darcy will be thankful every day that the rooms are well soundproofed.

“Okay, I can head straight to the train station, and get to work by 8am,” he mutters to himself, walking without watching where he’s going while on his phone. “I’ll have to let Hotch know… hang on, one sec.” He stops for a few moments to tap out a text. 

“Is your job always like this? Emergency texts in the middle of the night?” asks Darcy. “Because if so, I feel you, dude. I swear, scientists have no understanding of the importance of a regular sleep schedule.”

He laughs a bit breathlessly. “I might be a bit guilty of that myself.”

“Oh, no, not another one!” she cries out, laughing. They get to the elevator and stop. His hands flutter a bit uselessly in front of him. Darcy feels warm. The doors open, and Darcy pulls out her business card. She gives it to him along with a peck on the cheek. “Give me a call sometime.”

“Oh, yeah! I mean--I mean, I will! Absolutely!” Spencer’s face is bright red now, fingers up halfway to his cheek. She waves to him as the elevator doors closed, and she’s delighted as he waves back. 

After the doors shut, Darcy breathes out, relaxed and loose. She tugs off her pantyhose right there and throws it to the side. She’d deal with it later. 

She hopes he calls her. He seemed like he would. Darcy is pretty certain. 

But for now, she really wants to sleep. 

…

“Where’s Reid?” asks Morgan, when they’re all seated at the round table for their new case. 

“He texted that he would be late,” says Hotch. 

Rossi snorts. “Reid? Late? Are we sure he hasn’t been kidnapped?”

Hotch shoots him a look. “Don’t joke about that. There are plenty of reasons for why Reid would be late. If he doesn’t arrive soon, then we’ll call him and see what’s happening then.”

Rossi raises his hands. “Obviously, I don’t want the kid to be kidnapped. But has he ever been late before? It’s out of the ordinary for Reid.” His voice is light, almost joking, but it underlies a real concern. It’s hard not to think the worst in their line of work. Even harder not to become paranoid, to know where the line is of reasonable safety measures and letting the work get to them. 

Thankfully, before they can get further into any dark fears of what might have befallen their youngest coworker, Reid bursts into the room, clothes and hair in disarray. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, “I had to get a train from New York.”

“New York?” repeats Hotch. 

“Why were you in New York?” asks Rossi.

Morgan eyes his clothes. They’re wrinkled, as if he slept in them, which is quite unlike Reid. At least for when they’re not on a case. 

“The Stark Industries Convention,” says Reid. “It was _incredible_. I got to see Tony Stark and Bruce Banner give presentations. The sheer amount of scientific breakthroughs that are occurring right now--”

“Oh, I remember you talking about that,” interrupts JJ. “I thought the convention ended yesterday, though.” Strictly speaking, they’re not supposed to profile each other. But it’s _hard_ to turn it off, and not dig into what’s happening with their coworkers. JJ’s giving Reid a suspicious looks, and Rossi’s looking at him squinty-eyed, clearly noticing his clothes like Morgan had. 

“I spent the night there,” says Reid. 

“What, did you just sleep on the floor of the conference?” Morgan asks incredulously, trying to lead Reid into giving them more information. Hotch views them all disapprovingly, but he doesn’t stop him. Ha. He wants to know too.

“I stayed with a woman from the conference,” says Reid, and Morgan almost chokes on his coffee. “I lost track of time.”

“Well, who would have thought?” Rossi says quietly. 

“Damn! Our little boy is growing up!” says Morgan with a grin, standing up to clap Reid on the shoulder. 

Reid goes as red as a tomato. “What? No! We didn’t sleep together, we were just talking!”

“A likely story,” says Rossi, as Morgan snorts.

“Yeah, when I spend the night with a woman, we’re always just talking, too,” he says. Reid gazes about the room looking for help where there is none. Rossi’s helping Morgan heckle him, and JJ and Hotch are far too amused. “ _Lots_ of talking, if you know what I mean.”

Hotch clears his throat. Morgan dials it down a notch while Reid glares at him. “It _was_ just talking.” The affront bleeds out of his voice in exchange for wistfulness. “Haven’t you ever found yourself so involved in a conversation with someone that the entire night’s gone by before you know it?” 

He hasn’t, a pang strikes in his chest with longing before the implication of what Reid just said sets in. “Oh my god,” says JJ. “ _Spence_.”

“Oh, that’s so cute!” exclaims Garcia at the door. “You’re smitten! Smitten kitten! What’s her name?” Reid becomes even more red, shrinking in on himself in embarrassment as Garcia’s enthusiastic presence crowds the room. 

“Aw, that’s cute,” comments Rossi. “Is she a scientist, then?”

“She’s got to be,” says Prentiss. “At the Stark Convention? Does she work at Stark Industries?”

“Oh my god,” says Reid weakly instead of answering.

Hotch evidently decides to have mercy. “Everyone take your seats. We’ve got a case to work on, and I expect everyone to be focused.” 

Reid practically dives into his seat, while the rest of them obediently shelve the conversation. A group of profilers, however, do not do well with gossip dangled in front of them only for it to be taken away. As soon as the case is over, and they’re settled home on the jet, they begin the interrogation. 

In their defense, gossip helps them unwind, especially after cases. And they need to unwind. Reid’s dignity and privacy are just unfortunate casualties. 

“So, Spence,” JJ begins, tone of voice instantly making Reid tense. “Spill. Who’s your girlfriend?”

“I don’t think one night can constitute a relationship,” says Reid immediately. “And besides, I haven’t heard from her.”

“Oh,” says JJ, the wind taken out of her sails a little bit. 

Morgan has a suspicion, however, so he doesn’t feel too bad for Reid. “Did she give you her number, or did you give her yours?”

Reid’s pause tells him everything he needs to know. 

“Spencer!” admonishes Prentiss. Rossi shakes his head in disbelief. “You haven’t texted her yet?”

“I’m going to! I planned to after the case was done! We’ve been working!” he protests. 

“Then text her! It’s already been two days, Spencer!” says JJ. “Unless, of course, you don’t _want_ to see her again.”

“No, I do! I really do! But I don’t know what to say,” he falters. His hands fiddle with his tie. “What do I even say to her?”

“Tell her you had a good time and that you’d like to see her again,” suggests Prentiss. 

“Invite her out to dinner,” says Rossi. “I know some wonderful restaurants in New York I can recommend.”

“Is she a scientist?” asks Morgan. “Maybe there’s a nerdy thing you can take her too.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” says Reid, not sounding very grateful at all. “She’s not a scientist, she’s a--an assistant scientist.”

“An assistant scientist?” questions Prentiss. “Like in a lab or with administration?”

His brows scrunch together, as they often do when Reid’s going through the files of his recollection. “The former. She described the hands-on work she did in a lab…” He trails off, not sounding completely certain. 

“Well, then that’s easy. Ask her how her day is going in the lab,” instructs Rossi.

“That’s a very safe question, but rather limiting,” says Prentiss. “After all, she might just say work is ‘fine.’ You should ask something more engaging.”

“You can’t be too out there!” says Rossi. “He doesn’t want to scare her off! I know what I’m talking about, I’ve been married three times!”

“And divorced three times,” says JJ.

“If they spent all night _‘talking’_ already,” Morgan says, humored by Reid’s clearly growing embarrassment, “I don’t think she’s gonna scare off easy.”

Reid shoots him an offended look while the rest of the team, Hotch included, have a good laugh. Ignoring all of them, Reid taps out something on his phone and then shoves it irritably into his pocket. 

It dings audibly as soon as he’s crossed his arms. 

“She messaged you back _already?_ ” says JJ incredulously. “Ooh, she must really like you, Spence.”

Reid’s ears are still pink while he takes his phone out again to read the message. When he smiles a bit, Prentiss demands, “So, what she’d say? What did you say?”

He puts his phone away, and says, “We’re going to meet up again.” They cheer and congratulate him, even while he protests, “No thanks to any of you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i just really needed reid to have better luck with in romance and darcy is so fun to ship with anyone
> 
> also i really like exploring what two people might have in common and how they would start falling in love


End file.
